


Pretend this Never Happened

by stolenfaye



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Canon Compliant, Christmas, F/M, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), The Burrow (Harry Potter), based on a movie scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28694073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stolenfaye/pseuds/stolenfaye
Summary: This Christmas at the Burrow, Harry confides his suspicions of Snape and Draco to Lupin, Mr. Weasley, and Tonks. Lupin, apparently agitated, tells Harry that he is blinded by hatred and leaves in a huff. Tonks goes to try and smooth things over...and spend some time with the man who has eluded her for months.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Pretend this Never Happened

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Allythegreat1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allythegreat1/gifts).



> Thanks for the idea!

The muck room by the back door was filled with Wellies, old boots, and trainers. A faint odor like old socks, fresh grass, and cleaning potion lived in the air here. Homey, in a way.  
Beyond the four windowpanes in the back door, one Remus Lupin was figuratively kicking himself. Outside, where the air was brisk and the scent told of snow, away from the warmth and laughter in the Burrow.  


Tonks’ hand hovered above the doorknob. He didn’t want her to help, but she thought that of everyone at this Christmas party, she was the one who knew his condition best. She kept a calendar of the phases of the moon at home. She knew before she ever got here that today would be The Day After. The cycle had ended, and there was probably a little wolf in him still. Tonks grabbed her coat where it hung on the hook and opened the door. Maybe she wouldn’t have to say anything.  


Before she had fully stepped through the door, his weary, cracked voice was saying, “You don’t deserve my rudeness, I know. I’m sorry. I just need a moment.”  


“Oh,” Tonks had to think when he had been rude to her. She’d said something about the unbreakable vow, and he had interrupted, still focused like a hound on Harry. “No problem.”  


He watched her as she crunched across the frigid grass. There were bags under his eyes, and a gleam to his irises that even the shadow of the moon could not wash out. He offered no words and turned his back to her, walking a little further through the garden.  


She followed in his wake, taking note of the weak stalks of tomato vines and bean sprouts. She thought she could hear a gnome or two in the tall grass. Lupin went to the edge of the garden and turned back, pacing. Almost out of habit, Tonks turned to the side, making way for him to retrace his steps. She watched him do this for a few minutes in silence, drank in the sight of him as she leaned up against a sturdy cabinet full of pots.  


It was hard to see him like this, wincing with each step, scowling, afraid to meet her eyes. But she had eyes on him. He was alive!  


Dumbledore had set him to join a pack of werewolves led by Fenrir Greyback, and Tonks had barely seen him since the summer, since he’d told her that…that he couldn’t be with her. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t listened. It wasn’t as though she hated him for crushing her heart. She burned to tell him that her heart could mend, that she would love him anyway.  


But right now, he was upset about Harry. In what might have been an echo of her own feelings, Tonks said, “He’ll still love you, you know. People bicker.”  


Lupin turned to examine her, snorted. “He was my student, not my son.”  


“He respects you.”  


At this, Lupin actually growled, a sound so at odds with this serene little home that Tonks thought she had imagined it. She felt somewhat proud of herself when she realized that the sound did not make her fearful. “Respect?” Lupin spat. “For a homeless werewolf who cannot be bothered to return any of his letters?”  


“Yes, he does. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have spoken to you about it.” Tonks found her voice getting stronger. She rubbed her fingers together and shoved her fists into the pockets of her coat.  


Lupin came to her, hovered before her with hands held out, as if to take her own. Tonks held out her hands, and he sandwiched them between his own. When she sought out his eyes, he glanced away and seemed to lose confidence. He dropped her hands quickly. “I…apologize.”  


“For what?” Tonks said flatly. This, again. She sought out his hand and held it tightly, even when he attempted to pull away. Her fingers skated over nicks and new blisters.  


But he changed topics quickly. “Harry looks more and more like James each year. When he speaks of Draco Malfoy becoming a Death Eater, I cannot help but hear James speaking ill of Severus. It seems almost as though he has inherited his prejudice for all Slytherins, but for Severus in particular.”  


“He is rather unpleasant to Harry.” Tonks frowned gently. Harry had many reasons to hate his Potions Master, but did that mean that his accusations were right? It seemed as though he had followed Snape and Draco around all year, and Tonks wondered whether he was motivated by his desire to become an auror, or by the dislike Lupin spoke of? “I know Snape is on Dumbledore’s side.” She squeezed Lupin’s hand, hoping to reassure. “I know it. And I know that he had helped you before…” she trailed off, trying desperately to find a way to avoid saying, _before you left._ Better to just skip that bit. “But if he has been pressured to make an unbreakable vow, what else must he do? He may die.”  


“Die doing what?” Lupin took his hand back to gesticulate. “Does Harry know what this vow was? He may have vowed to help Draco stay alive during the war. He may have vowed to keep Draco off the wrong path! In either case, it is not Harry’s duty to figure it out.”  


“You’re worried about him,” Tonks surmised, carefully studying Lupin’s face.  


Lupin seemed to glare back for a long moment before he said, lowly with deliberation, “Of course I am. I worry for everyone, every day. I worry whether I will live another day. I worry about you. I worry about this boy whom I have failed time and time again.”  


“You haven’t—”  


“James’ son deserves to be happy. James’ son deserves to be a young man at school and not wonder whether his peers and professors will kill him.” Each word he said seemed to be another weight on his shoulders. He sagged before her, a thin shadow against the deep blue horizon behind him.  


Slowly, Tonks managed, “He does.” There was nothing else to say. There was no comfort she could bring him. In wartime, he had a job to do, and so did she. Harry had a hodgepodge family who were all trying their best, and Lupin could only be a friend and professor. He had been pigeonholed into the role of a spy, surrounded by suspicious people. Tonks had done some research, knew some of the major werewolf writers, knew some of Lupin’s own essays on the needs of this group. Yes, the wolf was still in him now, but it was surrounded on all sides and unable to be with his pack. “You deserve to be happy, too,” she said quietly.  


He made a huff, apparently a laugh. It tore at her to hear it. “How?”  


Dora threw herself at him, enveloped him in her arms as best as she could. He felt smaller than he used to against her; she felt his ribs under his sweater. _Please,_ she thought, _what good is magic if I can’t use it to make him feel better?_ She willed him to receive all of her feelings. She wanted warmth to leave her and flood him. She wanted the support she had had through these tedious, dismal months to be transferred to him instead. She buried her face in his chest, trying to keep her breath steady, to hold on to the calm that she had wanted to bring to him. _Please. I wish I could fix this._  


“Dora.”  


“What?” _Please don’t say that I can’t hold you now, while I’ve got you._  


“You’ve made a fog.”  


_What._ “What.” Tonks pulled back, looked around. Despite the frigid air, cloud of fog surrounded them, blocking sight of the Burrow, of the garden. It swirled at their feet, mimicking the pacing that Lupin had done.  


She glanced at his face, mortified. He actually smiled back, saying, “You know, subconscious meteorological spells are not too uncommon when…” he trailed off. She followed his gaze to the swirling mist, where she found a shape, rather like an animal, rather like a Patronus.  


Her Patronus. He hadn’t seen it since it had become a wolf.  


This couldn’t be happening. All of the smile and warmth in his face seemed to leak away, like she knew it would. These were her feelings, filling the air with Patronus mist around them, and they sickened him.  


“Dora,” he said.  


“I just wanted to cheer you up, Remus,” she said wearily. This was why she should have stayed in the muck room. “I didn’t mean to.”  


“I didn’t know you could cast a wandless Patronus,” he said softly.  


“I don’t even know if that’s what happened,” she replied, shoving her hands in her pockets again, retreating into herself, regretting ever allowing herself to touch him.  


But he came closer. She was nearly falling into Molly’s tomato vines now; Tonks could just barely make them out in the mist. Her hand groped behind her for the cabinet of pots. “Yes, it is,” Lupin said. “I would know. What was the memory?”  


_You,_ she wanted to say. But Tonks only shook her head, unsure of how to answer. This wasn’t a memory. She wanted her best friend to feel better, and it came out as a giant, wolf-shaped spell.  


Remus appeared unaware of her misery. Perhaps the Patronus had worked on him. His eyes gleamed with excitement, not wolfishness, and he smiled down at her. “Fascinating,” he murmured. “You are the most fascinating woman I have ever met.”  


She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to feel. He loved her; she could feel it in her bones. Finally, she said slowly, “Remus. I don’t have a gift for you.” This was a lie, but Dora saw herself as very clever just now.  


Not aware of her intentions, he muttered, “Neither have I, but—”  


Dora stood on her toes and kissed him. She held the back of his head and pulled her down to him. She took her time, caressed his lower lip, tasted the cider on his breath, showing him just how gently, how attentively she could love him. His mustache tickled her nose. She felt his hands pull her close.  


Something deep within Dora seemed to roar in triumph and demand more, demand to touch him and hold him all night. But he was not ready for her, despite his pretty words. With all the self-restraint Dora could muster, she pulled away and stepped out of his grasp.  


They gazed at each other in confusion until Remus’ smile fell and he was the same as before. The mist of the Patronus was dissolving rapidly, revealing the dark garden and the warm lights of the Burrow again.  


Finally, he muttered, “I am so sorry. I cannot do—”  


Tonks held her head high. “I just had to give you my gift.” She turned and started walking back to the Burrow. “Come on, come pull a cracker with Harry. Then we can have some egg nog.” _And pretend that this never happened._


End file.
